The Button
by Rosalie Storm
Summary: Derek's artwork of a short story that would only be up on the blog for a couple of days before being deleted, so I do not intend to take any credit OR give any offence to Derek. This is for those who cannot access his blog for any reason. Swear down on my non-existent heart and to be even more deader than I am now, that I DO NOT TAKE ANY CREDIT FOR THIS WORK. THIS IS DEREK'S.


Somewhere in the distance, a train rattled on its tracks.

Liam sat in his kitchen with the curtains drawn, the lamp on the table casting its searing eye over his handiwork. It was the size of a shoebox, and wooden. Heavy. Inside were things he did not, could not, understand. There were gears and levers and finely balanced cogs and symbols painstakingly etched into it all. He didn't know what they meant, didn't know what they were for, but he had seen them in his head for as long as he could remember. Transferring those symbols to metal and wood, after all these years, was... well, it was wonderful. It was a relief. It was like he'd been tense his whole life, every muscle knotted and his teeth gritted and his eyes screwed shut, and now suddenly he was relaxing, and a strange sort of euphoric calm spread through him.

He took a screwdriver from the junkyard of tools on the table and fixed the lid in place. His hands were covered in nicks and cuts. He had run out of plasters days ago. Some of the cuts still stung. There were particular gears and symbols that required blood. He didn't know why- he just knew that they did. He saw it in his head. He always had. This device, this box, these designs, these gears and levers and symbols- they had always been a part of who he was. This was all he thought about. It was why he didn't finish school. It was why he couldn't hold a job. It was why Cathy had left him. This device had ruined any chance he'd ever had at happiness- but here it was, finished. A wooden box with a big red button on its lid.

Liam straightened his back. Vertebrae cracked. How long had he been sitting hunched over like that? How long had he been sitting here? He became suddenly aware of how full his bladder was, and how empty his stomach. He needed to go for a walk. He needed fresh air. Was it even daytime? The curtains were closed and everywhere but the table was in darkness. It was night. But what night? Was it still the weekend?

There was something over by the door, a shape in the gloom. Like a man, standing very still. Liam squinted at it, then turned his head, looked at it out of the corner of his eye. No matter how he viewed the thing, this coat or this shadow or whatever it was, it still looked like a man. A tall man. In a hat.

Liam frowned at it.

"Hello Liam," said the man.

A bolt of fear and fright shot from Liam's belly to his chest, but his body remained still. Would his legs even work if he tried to jump up? He'd been sitting here for so long he doubted it.

Liam's mouth was dry. How long had it been since he'd taken a drink of water? His voice cracked. The question he asked was not who are you or what do you want, two questions he felt needed answers, but rather, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Just a few minutes," said the man. He had a reassuring voice. It was smooth. "You didn't hear me come in. You were otherwise occupied. What is that you've got there?"

"You can't have it," said Liam. "If you want to rob me, rob me. I have a little money somewhere. But you can't have this."

"I'm not here to rob you," said the man. "What happens if you press that button, Liam?"

The pressure on his bladder, the dryness of his mouth, the emptiness of his belly, and now a headache, rising slowly from the heat that was stinging his skin and making him sweat. He felt sick. He was sick. He needed to lie down.

"I don't know," said Liam.

The tall man in the hat moved his head ever so slightly. "You don't know what it does? But you made it, didn't you?"

Liam nodded.

"How did you know what to do?"

"I've always known," said Liam. "My whole life, I've known. I had these images in my head. But I couldn't see them clear enough until... sorry, what date is it?"

"The twenty-first," said the tall man. "Four days before Christmas."

Liam frowned. "That can't be right. It was the eighth just... just a few days ago."

"Time got away from you," said another voice in the gloom, somewhere over by the window. It was a girl's voice.

"Who are you?" Liam asked at last.

"No one in particular," said the man. "We have a job to do, that's all. We help people."

"I don't need your help."

"You may not," said the girl, "but everyone else does." She walked forward a bit, until the peripheral glow from the lamp could pick out her features. She was pretty, with dark hair. Wearing black. Seventeen or eighteen, no older. "What does the button do?" she asked.

"I told you," said Liam. "I don't know."

"Then why is your finger on it?"

He looked down. There it was, his finger, resting on the big red button like it had no intention of ever moving. He frowned. He couldn't remember putting it there and yet... yet it seemed there could be no other possible place he could put it. On the button is where his finger belonged.

"I'm sorry," Liam said, "I'm not feeling well."

"Liam Delaney," said the man, "take your finger off the button."

And Liam almost did it. Without thinking, his finger raised a fraction of an inch before the weight of his obligation forced it back down again.

Obligation? What obligation? What the hell was going on?

"How did you do that?" he asked the man. "How did you make me do that?"

The man made a sound, like a dissatisfied grunt, and it was the girl who spoke. "How did you disobey? Did you take a name?"

"What?" said Liam. "What do you mean?"

"How did you disobey?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, do you understand? I don't know who you are or what you're doing here."

"They're saying the world will end," said the girl.

This stopped Liam for a moment. "What?"

"They're saying the world will end," the girl repeated. "Did you hear that?"

"Are you... are you talking about that Mayan thing? What about it? The Mayan calendar ends on the 21st of December. So what? It's a calendar. They ran out of room or they stopped calculating or a new cycle begins again or something... I'm sorry, what does that have to do with anything? It's nonsense."

"Do you know what a Sensitive is, Liam?" the girl asked. "It's a psychic. You believe in psychics?"

"No," said Liam. "I don't believe in astrology either, or tarot cards, or palm reading."

The girl nodded. "Palm reading is silly. So is astrology. Most tarot card readers haven't a clue what they're doing. I met one once who assured me I had a happy life ahead of me- so she's pretty obviously an idiot. But psychics have been predicting the end of the world, Liam, to coincide with the end of the Mayan calendar."

"So?"

"So we think the end of the world starts here," said the man.

Liam frowned. "In Ireland? You think the end of the world starts here in this country?"

"Actually I think it starts here in this kitchen."

Liam blinked. "You can't be serious."

"I can be, but rarely am."

"And, what? You think this button kicks it all off?" Liam said, almost laughing. "You think that's what I've been making? This is a box of gears and junk and things that don't make sense! There is not a single computer chip or piece of technology in it. It's not connected to anything. I don't know what will happen when I push the button but whatever happens will happen in this box and this box alone. It's not going to set off a chain reaction or it's not going to explode or it's not going to detonate nuclear warheads or... It's just a silly box."

"A silly box that has been in your head for your entire life," said the man.

"But now it's out," said Liam. "It's not in my head anymore. It's gone. I don't have to... I don't have to think about it anymore."

"How's your mother, Liam?"

The smile faded from Liam's face.

"She's doing well, from what I gather," the man continued. "Responding to the treatment. She still draws on the wall, of course. Strange symbols. Strange designs. Gears and levers and a big red button."

"My mother is ill."

The man nodded his head in the shadows. "Like her father before her. And his father before him. Stretching back through the generations. And all of you with this design on your minds. This box. That button. But you, Liam, you're the only one who saw it clearly enough to construct it."

"I've broken the cycle," said Liam. "I'm not going to end up in an asylum like the rest of them. I've done it. I've made it. Now I get to have a normal life. Now that my duty is almost done, I get to be free of it."

"What duty?" asked the girl.

The headache was getting worse. He was getting hotter. He probably had a fever. "Did I say duty? I don't know. That's not the word I meant to use."

"But it's the one you used," said the man. "Do you have a duty, Liam? Is that what it feels like?"

"I'm not sure I... I..."

"That box has cursed your bloodline for hundreds of years," the man said. "Maybe more. You were compelled to construct it, weren't you? You didn't have a choice. You may not even have been fully aware of what you were doing. You have a duty to that box, don't you Liam?"

Liam nodded. "An obligation," he whispered.

"An obligation to that box. Why is your finger on the button, Liam? Is that part of your obligation? Once you build it, you set it off?"

Something broke in Liam's heart, and tears came to his eyes. "I have to press it," he said, his face crumpling. "I just have to press it once and it'll all be over. I'll be able to walk away and never think about it again."

"Pressing that button will hurt a lot of people."

"It's just a box," Liam sobbed.

"It's more than a box."

"It's just a box, I'm telling you. It doesn't do anything. I'm not a scientist or an engineer. I'm just a man. I'm just ordinary. I wouldn't know how to build anything that would hurt people. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to be able to walk away."

There was a sound outside. A car pulling up. A line of light swept in through the crack in the curtains and brushed by the man's jaw. It looked like his skin was white as chalk, or he was wearing a mask or something.

"Be right back," said the man, and slipped out through the door.

"Who's out there?" Liam asked.

"Some people," said the girl. "There's been a race to find you. We got here first."

"What do they want?"

There was a cry from outside, and a sudden light like a bursting flame and then it was gone again.

"They want the box," said the girl. "They want to sell it, or use it, or worship it. I don't know. Some of these people just don't make any sense to me. You look tired."

"I feel sick."

Outside there was another sound. Loud. Abrupt.

"Was that a gunshot?" asked Liam.

"It was," said the girl.

"Aren't you scared?"

"You've got your finger on a button that will end the world," the girl said. "Why should I be scared of guns that aren't even aimed at me?"

"I'm not going to end the world."

"You've got your finger on the button."

"I can barely work out how to make a call on my own phone- why do you think I know how to destroy the planet? This is ridiculous. Please leave me alone."

"I wish we could. But if we do, you'll press that button, and you'll kill us all. You'll kill my friends and my parents and my little sister. I can't let you do that, Liam."

"I won't be hurting anyone. The box doesn't do anything. It's just a stupid box with a stupid button, but it's been in my head for my entire life, like a constant whine in my ear. All I have to do to be rid of it is just press the thing. That's all. Easy as that. I'll press it, no one will get hurt, the world won't end, and I won't have to listen to that whine anymore. I won't have to dream about gears and symbols. I'll be able to close my eyes and not see how one cog fits into the other. I'll be able to live in the kind of peace that my mother never could. You don't... you don't know. You don't know what it was like, seeing her... seeing what happened to her. Seeing how bad it got. When I was ten years old she sat me down, she told me these dreams I had would only get worse. She told me they'd consume my life, like they were consuming hers. This is my chance to escape that madness. Please, just leave me alone. This is the only chance I'll ever have."

"It isn't madness you're suffering from," said the girl. "My friend, the friend that's out there right now fighting on your front lawn, told me what you are. You're a conduit for an idea, an idea that was planted centuries ago. It's grown inside the minds of your ancestors, been added to, been improved... and here tonight, it's finally ready. You're not mad, Liam. Your mother isn't mad. You're just open to a stream of information that the rest of us aren't."

"So who planted it?" Liam asked. "This idea you're talking about. Whose idea was it? The Mayans?"

"The Maya people just foresaw the end," said the man from beside the door. Liam hadn't even heard him come back in. "They had nothing to do with this. We don't know who started it. We don't even know if ending the world was what was originally intended. All we know is that our Sensitives had visions of a man in a dark room, building a box, and when he pressed the button everything just... ended."

"Then how did you know it was me?"

"They heard a train in the distance."

"That's it? That's all?"

"That narrowed it down," said the man. "A few other hints. A few other clues. Why haven't you pushed the button?"

"Why haven't I...? But you don't want me to."

"That's not why you haven't pushed it. Your finger's on it. There's nothing stopping you. Why haven't you?"

"I don't... I'm not sure."

"It's because you know that that isn't just a silly box and that isn't just a silly button. You believe us, don't you?"

"No, I... Oh God. I don't know."

"Will you give us the box, Liam?"

"What will happen then?"

"We'll take it somewhere safe," said the girl. "We can't dismantle it and we can't destroy it- something might go wrong. But we'll take care of it. We'll hide it away where no one will ever find it."

"It won't be used to hurt anyone," the man said. "I promise."

"And me?" said Liam. "What will happen to me?"

The man hesitated. "I won't lie to you. You'll probably always feel that urge to push the button. That won't go away. You'll have to live with it for the rest of your life."

"But I'm so close. I'm so close to leaving it behind."

"We're asking you to make a sacrifice," the girl said. "We're asking you to continue living with this so that the rest of the world can continue living. Please, Liam."

More tears now, but they came silently. Liam lifted his finger from the button, and with his other hand he pushed the box slowly across the table. The girl came forward to take it. She wore a black ring, Liam noticed. For a moment it seemed to play with the shadows, and then the girl was lifting the box and stepping back, taking great care.

The last remaining dregs of strength drained from Liam's body. He was exhausted, confused, scared, and all he wanted to do was lunge across the table and push that big red button before the girl took it away.

"Thank you," said the man, and Liam just nodded.

The man looked down at something- a pocketwatch?- and opened the door. "Two hours until midnight," he said. "Should be loads of time."

"Loads of time for what?" Liam asked, even though he knew the man hadn't been speaking to him.

The girl walked slowly out, taking the box with her. Liam forced himself to remain where he was.

"There's a woman who believes the souls of all her dead lovers are trapped in the centre of the Earth," said the man. "She wants to crack the world open to free them."

Liam frowned. "Can she do it?"

"Yes. So we have to stop her before she kills us all."

"But... but didn't your psychics say that I'd be responsible for the end of the world?"

"Some of them did, yes. And some others said that she would. We've averted eight potential apocalypses already today, and she'll be our last. Once midnight comes, we can relax. Then we just have to hope the Americans don't mess up."

"The Americans?"

"A day can last 49 hours around the world," said the man, walking out and leaving Liam sitting there at his kitchen table. "A lot can happen in a day."


End file.
